


Ryan's Hope

by captainamergirl



Category: Ryan's Hope
Genre: Alternate Universe, Delia was everything, F/M, I loved this show, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainamergirl/pseuds/captainamergirl
Summary: Ryan's Hope. My tribute to the late, great soap. (It would have been 43 years old this year!)





	Ryan's Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This is a pre-canon story with a very AU twist. Enjoy.

**01 - Played for a fool **  
  
He finds her standing in the rain when he pulls up to the house in The Tuna Can (that’s what the family calls this rusted gray jalopy of a car that’s been passed down from one Ryan sibling to the next over the years) -- or rather, she _swaying_ in the downpour; hugging her sodden brown and white peasant dress to her petite body, humming some eerie, off-kilter tune. He instinctively runs towards her, slip-sliding in the wet mud. “Delia, what are you doing out here? It’s coming down cats and dogs! Are you perfectly mad?”  
  
He yanks off his tweed jacket, the one his brother Frank gave him for a present when he graduated from high school; the one his Ma has patched and re-patched at the elbows more times than he can count. He slides it round her sloping shoulders. "Delia,” he says again. “What’s wrong? Why are you standing out here like this?”  
  
She doesn’t answer, just stares at him vacantly, eyes dull. He shakes his head, tucks his arm around her tiny waist and guides her towards the front porch. He opens the door. As he expects, no one’s home. It will just be him and Dee again. Pat and Dee. _PatAndDee._ It’s been a long time since it’s been just the two of them in such close proximity. He’s been running himself ragged between classes and shifts at the bar, and she’s been chasing some new guy about Riverside, so he’s heard. Some uptown guy. Pat doesn’t know anything else about him; not even his name. He thinks it is better that way, anyway -- for her; for him. They need to move on. That’s what he wanted, after all. He’s got to focus on school. Med school is a real taskmaster and things don’t come as easily for him as they do for the other Ryan siblings. He’s got to work hard for every little victory, and he wants to be a doctor - so bad that he can taste it.  
  
He leads Delia inside, pushes her into a chair at the kitchen table. It’s the middle of summer and he knows she’s not liable to actually catch a cold from this escapade, but he’s still worried about her just the same. Some things will never change. He bundles the jacket tighter about her. She seems … So far away. Farther away than ever before.  
  
“Dee, wontcha talk to me?” He pulls up a stool in front of her. “Please. Come on. Something’s bothering you. I can tell. Is it Bob? Is he doing alright?”  
  
She still doesn’t respond. Pat’s hands shake a little as he brings them up and slowly cups her cheeks. Her skin is damp, but he recognizes the softness, the feel of it. He sucks in a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He wills his hands to stop their quaking and they finally do. Surgeons… Great surgeons need steady hands.  
  
“Dee… Talk to me.”  
  
Delia looks up at him then. It takes a good long moment for her to really see him though. It's almost as if she were trying to figure out who he was and how she got to be there in the first place. And then she’s breaking down into a sobbing fit. He has seen Delia cry. Of course, he has -- lots of times. Delia Reid is nothing if not temperamental, but this is … It’s _feral…_  
  
“Oh, Pat, oh god!” she cries, rocking back and forth on the chair. “Oh, I’ve bungled it. I’ve gone and bungled things real good now. I’ve let myself - I’ve let myself be played for a fool. And now I’m - now I’m going to have to pay the consequences.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” He asks, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice. Delia is delicate; she's fragile. She always has been. Just being looked at sideways can set her off; make her feel as if the whole world is ending; that it’s turned against her. He wants to believe it’s just one of those too-regular occurrences, but looking into her eyes, hearing her plaintive cries, watching her repeatedly smack her knees, and scream, _“I’m dumb. I’m stupid, Pat. I don’t have a drop of sense in this blonde block head of mine,”_   he thinks she may not be blowing things out of proportion this time. Something really, truly, could be wrong.  
  
“Tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
“None of this… It feels sickening to me, Pat. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Not with him.”  
  
“Him, who? Delia, what are you talking about?”  
  
“Bob will never understand… He’ll be so disappointed in me. He will. You know he will. He’ll think I’ve gone and made a muck up of everything and the worst part is, he’ll be right.”  
  
“You’re talking in circles here, Delia. What’s wrong? Bob … Why will he be disappointed in you? He’s your brother. He thinks you hung the moon.”  
  
“No, he’s going to be so disgusted with me. Just like everyone else.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because, Pat… I … The guy I took up with-”  
  
Pat stiffens. The movement is almost imperceptible, but it happens. He doesn’t want to consider why his back goes rigid and his knuckles tighten, but they do. He willingly let go of Delia sometime ago; he has no rightful claim to her. It shouldn’t bother him when the other guy finally comes up in conversation. And yet, it does. _Because the way she’s acting..._  
  
“Did he hurt you?” The words come out strangled. “Did this guy - did he take advantage-” He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. He doesn’t know if he can. The answer might break him as well as her.  
  
Delia doesn’t reply. She abruptly shoves away from him; nearly toppling the chair beneath her in the process. She stalks to the window. She stares out at the darkened sky. It’s summertime. Barely 1p.m. It shouldn’t be so gray; it shouldn’t be so dark. It shouldn’t feel like the whole world might end today; dependent of course, upon whatever Delia says next.  
  
Pat sucks in a greedy breath. “Delia…” He grips the table beside him. “What happened?”  
  
“That doesn’t … Why does it matter?” She cries. She rests her forehead against the windowpane. She looks frail and impossibly small, staring outside, almost like a child in that moment. “The thing is … I’m in a way, Pat. A bad way… You see … That man…”  
  
Pat swallows hard, feels a hard knot clogging his throat. “Delia, did that man … Did he … Delia, are you-” How does he ask his old girlfriend something like this? The words aren’t forthcoming. He’s going to be a doctor and the words are simply not there. Finally, he blurts out, “Delia, are you going to have a baby?”  
  
Delia doesn’t answer at first, just keeps staring out the window. She’s so still. Normally, she’s busy and frantic, bouncing around like a wind-up toy or a spinning top. But now, she’s impossibly still.  
  
Then as a crack of thunder splits the sky, she turns to look at him in the shaft of silver light. She nods. “Yes, Pat,” she cries. _“Yes!”_


End file.
